


Love is a Promise

by Hopeful_Romantic



Category: Fringe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeful_Romantic/pseuds/Hopeful_Romantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Etta talks with her mother about what she remembers... </p><p>Spoilers: "Letters of Transit" and 5x01</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is a Promise

  
**Disclaimer:**  Fringe is owned by JJ Abrams and all the grand high mucky mucks of Bad Robot and Fox. No copyright infringement is intended and no money was made from this of course. Any similarity to any other story not my own is coincidence.   
  
 **Title:**  Love is a Promise  
 **Fandom:**  Fringe  
 **Genre:**  Family Fic; Olivia & Etta  
 **Rating:**  G  
 **Timeline:**  Set sometime during 5x01; spoilers for "Letters of Transit" and 5x01 of course. *grin*   
  
 **Author's Notes:** Just a quick little fic because I sooooo wanted to  know more about the Bishop family before the arrival of the Observers. 

 

 

                                         

 

* * *

* * *

“I... I don't have much,” Etta said quietly, almost absently fingering the bullet that was hanging around her neck. “But... but I remember hands,” she said thoughtfully.

Etta released the bullet to rub her right thumb against the open palm of her opposite hand. She watched herself do so for a moment before staring off into the distance. As she did, she pulled her hand in close to her body and closed her open fingers around her thumb. Then she looked to her left; to the woman sitting quietly next to her on the bench.

“Your hands...” Etta said softly before turning her head to stare back out into the harsh distance. Her eyes went soft with remembrance. “Your hands... there in the dark, glowing on the wall next to my bed.”

“That was your father's idea,” Olivia said just as softly, watching as Etta turned her head back in her mother's direction.

“The first night you spent in your own room... in your first 'big girl bed'... you were so excited,” Olivia continued, smiling a little as she remembered her daughter as a small girl. “And you went right to bed; right to sleep. It seemed... well, you seemed fine. _I_ was the one that was a bit of a wreck.”

Olivia gave her daughter a wry sort of smile.

“You seemed fine, and Peter said... your father said, that I was worrying too much. But then, sometime in the middle of the night, we heard you cry out. And no matter how we comforted you, you just didn't want to be in that bed another minute. So we took you back to our room and you slept the rest of the night in your old crib.”

“The next night, the same thing happened. You started out so excited, and went right to sleep in your bed, but then you woke up in the middle of the night again. And again the next night, and the night after that.”

Olivia took a deep breath, pausing in her story.

“I felt so helpless,” she confessed finally. “But after the eighth night, your father went out and found this glow in the dark paint. Where he got it, I'll never know, because it must have been well after midnight... but he found it, and took it to your room.”

“Hands... your hands glowing in the dark,” Etta whispered. Olivia nodded.

“Your father painted his hand and put it on the wall there next to your bed. Then I painted mine, and did the same thing.”

“And he said,” Etta whispered, trying to remember, her face thoughtful. “He said...”

“Your father said that when ever you felt scared, or sad, or lonely, you just needed to look at those hand prints and remember that no matter what, we would both always be there for you.” Olivia nearly whispered. “We would always love you, and protect you, and keep you safe. Those hand prints were a promise he said.”

“Etta...” She sighed.

“Oh, Mom, don't cry,” Henrietta whispered in return, reaching out her hand to brush the tears from Olivia's cheek. “Don't cry...”

“I'm so sorry we broke our promise...”

“Oh mom, you didn't,” Etta assured Olivia in a soft voice. “You didn't break your promise. Don't you see?”

Olivia's daughter brushed more tears from her mother's cheek.

“You've never broken your promise, because when ever I've felt scared, or sad, or lonely, I've remember those hands in the dark... your hands... and then... I've always felt safe, and loved, and protected.”

Etta reached for her mother's hands.

“I don't have much, but I've always had the memory of how much you and dad loved me. I've always had that, and I've always felt safe in that memory. So see, you kept your promise.”

Olivia looked down to their joined hands.

“You kept your promise, mommy,” Etta whispered as Olivia pulled her daughter into a hug. “You kept your promise...”  


End file.
